Sludge
by Lola CS Kirschstein
Summary: A young woman of German/Cherokee descent goes on a soul-searching roadtrip across the US looking for her loser father and trying to escape her old life in the West. After receiving bad directions, she takes a wrong turn and ends up in an old ghost town, Silent Hill. Will she be able to defeat the horrors of her past and repressed fears? (Please give this a chance! Critics welcome!)
1. Chapter 1- On the Road to Brahams

Chapter One- On the Road to Brahams

The drive had been long. No, not long, she thought bitterly, but eternal. Her feet ached from pushing the driving pedals under her for days, with little rest. Her back ached from sleeping in her car, on a seat that never reclined fully. And most of all, her stomach ached, from all the junk she had eaten from gas stations and freeway-restaurants along the way. God this man had better be worth it.

The woman's name was Love, and she was going to visit her father. A father whom she had only seen pictures of, and faded ones at that. But the want for knowledge of her Indian roots had taken such a hold of her, she couldn't stop herself from cutting all ties in California to go soul-searching in West Virginia. She had been born here, in the Appalachian Mountains, on a dirty little reservation in the middle of nowhere. And she would have already been there, if it hadn't been for that damned redneck, sister-fucking, moonshine-drinking sonofabitch who had been too drunk to give her the correct directions off of the last highway. Her grip tightened on the wheel in anger as her eyes swept around the road, taking in the view of trees, rocks, and a 2000 foot drop. "Fucking hick." She mumbled.

The road had done nothing to change her temper. She was usually a quiet, well-mannered young woman, but there were factors in her life that changed her, and not for the better. She felt like a failure, every day, every waking minute she felt with every cell in her body that she would end up like her father, that toothless, drug-addicted thief who'd been just charming enough to hide his true self and attract her mother to him in marriage. He hadn't fooled her long, though, and after she had moved across the ocean, to an entirely new continent to a place where she couldn't even speak the language, she had had the courage to leave him, for both our sakes. _But she had been no saint either, _Love thought to herself in a solemn tone_, She was a looney-tune just like him. It takes a freak to know one._ She sighed deeply, a kind of exhale that rattled her whole being and gave a gloomy aura to the inside of the tattered old bug. She looked at herself in the rear-view mirror, though it was too dark to see herself properly. She saw her eyes, normally a honey-brown-green color, engulfed in a deep darkness. Rings sat around her eyes in deep, purple bags. Her mouth, usually so plump and bright, had been unconsciously pressed into slim lines that she found so unattractive she groaned. _It's just depression, _her mother had always told her_, You'll get over it. _She knew she couldn't. Part of her cross-country roadtrip had been inspired by the need to know her father, but it hadn't been all of it. She slowed the car down as her eyes began to close, and vowed just to make it to the next rest stop. She knew why she left. Her job sucked, and she had no way of getting into college without draining her already low finances. Her relationship, which she had been committed to since she was 15, had fallen apart, and she felt it was all her fault. Her mother had disowned her after she moved out of the house on her own, and she had absolutely no family in the United States, except for the one she was about to go and meet. Her outlook was not positive. As a child, her mother had told her about her father. His name was Jason, he was posted on a military post in Germany, and he was handsome. My mother fell in love, they married, she conceived, and he promised her the world. Except for when they moved from Germany to the great USA, she ended up on a dirty Indian reservation, where food stamps were used instead of money as currency. She left after a year.

Her eyes were steadily drooping now, and more than once she felt the vibration under her tires when she strayed too far to the right, right towards that huge drop-off. Things hadn't gotten better after that, not at all. Then Mama met another military man, and married, and had a child. But Mama didn't know what a nymphomaniac was, and was more than hurt to see her husband, my new daddy, fucking not only the babysitter but everything that came his way. Divorce came when I was 4 years old. But this time I had my baby brother with me, who looked so much like him. Then things got worse.

Love began to sleep.

She met another soldier, big and tall and oh-so-happy to have to children ready to call him daddy. But I didn't like him, no, I didn't like him. But Mama never listens. So when he they married and we moved to Nevada and he lost his job and he and he-

Love began to swerve.

-he thought that Mama was with another man he hit her, and he hit her hard, and he made sure she knew not to even think of such abominations. And when Love and her baby brother acted badly, when they couldn't eat their breakfast fast enough or they left their Legos on the carpet and DADDY stepped on them they too would know the quick, stabbing pain of a fist in their guts and on their faces and how far DADDY could throw you if he wanted to and it was worse when Daddy liked you because he would keep you in his room and-

Love fell, down that slope, into the midnight bliss. The darkness of the woods engulfed her, and a mist began to swallow the car. If a girl falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear, does she still scream?


	2. Chapter 2- Lost in the Mist

Chapter 2- Lost in the Mist

There was blood, just a little, not a lot, trickling down her face and onto her hand. It took Love quite some time to awaken, and when she did, she barely stirred. Everything was a little fuzzy, edges no longer held the same definition they did before. The first thing she noticed was how pretty the moonlight reflected the spider-like cracks in her windshield. It was as if the moon itself had been thrown off a cliff and caught by a tree, and its shattered remains lay defeated here in front of Love's face. But then Love began to regain consciousness, and with that came a sense of panic. She had not fallen all the way down the cliff, oh no, she had been caught by some freak trees that had taken root on the side of the mountain, and they cradled her car like a baby in a mother's bosom. Her heart beat rapidly as she carefully gathered her things; A bag with a pair of jeans and a shirt, some travelers checks, a hunting knife, and some trail mix. She unfastened her seatbelt and was already on her way out of the car when she realized she forgot her most important possession; her handgun. After a 5-year stint in the National Guard as an MP, she knew she wasn't going to take any shit from some high-school burnout junkie hick in the backwoods of West Virginia. She retrieved the 9mm and placed it in her deep pockets, along with her permit to carry a concealed weapon. Just in case.

The climb down was harrowing, as it was pitch black and the light that came from the tired old car was filtered by so many leaves and branches that it hardly helped her at all. More than once she almost plummeted to the bottom when treacherous rocks and weeds would come out weakly from the eroded earth she clung to, but she had enough sense to keep a hold on everything she could at those times. The cliff was illuminated by the moon, full and clear and bright, and turned everything a sort of unhappy blue-grey. Love was not even sure what her plan was; she had no rock climbing experience, or equipment. She had no cell phone to call for help, and even if she did, she wouldn't be able to hang on all night. She took a long glance down, trying to judge the distance between her and the ground. She almost puked. _God I am so fucked, _she thought with a grimace, again losing her grip on a stone that fell into the black oblivion of the night, _All I can do is… Climb up. _With this thought in mind she powered herself slowly up the rock face, trying to keep her heart from battering its way right out of her chest. The stones were cold, and Love, armed with little more than an old hoodie, began to feel a chill up her spine. But she felt a different kind of chill as well. A paralyzing fear had risen in her, for no specific reason, that she was being watched, and that when she arrived at the top, some ax-murdering cannibal 2 feet taller than her and much quicker would be waiting to chop her pretty little head off. Still, she kept moving up, since she had no other option.

When her fingers finally touched a long, strong tuft of grass, Love thought she had fallen and hit a tree. But no sooner had her fingers reached the top that her arms, and body, and legs followed suit, and she lay there a moment, bathed in moonlight and sweat and panting from exhaustion. The feeling that she was being watched never left her, but she felt much safer now that she was on solid ground. After a few moments she sat up and looked over the cliff, and just in time. She heard a sickening**_crack, _**and her car, which had carried her from Tijuana all the way up into these beautiful yet vile mountains, fell like a stone. She could hear her carhorn from here. She stood, and making sure all of her possessions were in good order, began to walk slowly down a dirt path she had found in the thick bush. She thought of nothing, intentionally keeping her mind blank so she would not have to deal with her immense fear, her fatigue, and her aggravation. The path was long, but clear, like it was well-walked by humans and deer alike, and she had no worry of her long hair being caught in any of the gnarled, unnerving nettles that surrounded her. _Maybe if I can reach Brahams on foot, they'll know how to get to the reservation from there. Long shot, maybe, but I've been wanting to stretch my legs, haven't I?_ She smirked. Not like this she didn't.

Not long after she began her journey on foot, her tidy dirt path coincided with a road, which was most unexpected. The road was relatively small, one lane to go forward, and another to go back. She jogged up to it to see if there were any road signs of any kind, but found none. She sighed again, much like she did in her crappy car, and kept walking, shoulders hunched. She didn't mind walking at all, but she didn't want to get lost in the woods without food and water. _Then again, _she reasoned with herself, _I'm not lost, I've found a road. Surely Brahams must be somewhere nearby. I'll get there, and then I'll see if there's somewhere I can stay the night. _But she had a feeling that she would not be blessed with such good luck.

At somewhere near 6 AM, the sun began to rise a little, turning the sky a melancholy grey. But quite some time later the sky stayed the same dark, menacing grey. _That's odd;_ she thought as she stared at the sky, looking for the sun, _it's still really dark. Why hasn't the sun come out all of the way? _Finally, she'd had enough. With a huff she sat on the side of the road and took out her trail mix, picking out the chocolate and eating it before everything else. She looked at her old, battered watch: 8:34. _8:34?!_ She groaned and downed the rest of her food, wishing she hadn't. She had forgotten that she hadn't brought any water. _DAMN. FUCK. _No matter how mild-mannered she had been, she'd always had a nasty habit akin to that of a sailor. _God damn fucking stupid ass hick sister fucking son of a bitch bite me you toothless fuck I'll kill—_

Suddenly something came up out of the mist, something she hadn't seen before: A road sign. It read plainly and clearly, even if the paint peeled off of it slightly.

**SILENT HILL**

Love's heart jumped just a little bit. She made it. Given, she didn't make it to Brahams, or to the reservation, but she made it somewhere, and there would be food and a hotel and a rental car here. Still, she couldn't help but feel something was off… She hadn't seen a single care since she had been on the road, coming from either direction. She could hear no animals. _And why the fuck is it so dark?!_


	3. Chapter 3- Pulsing

Chapter 3- Pulsing

This had been the darkest morning she'd ever seen, and she'd been through quite a few hurricanes. Even as her watch told her it was almost 9:30, the sun was hidden. It gave her an eerie feeling to be walking alone in such darkness, especially as she reached the town limits. There were no birds, no crickets, no flies. Love had passed through a couple of little ghost towns on her way up the mountains, but even then, there were a few children playing in the forest, and the jays sung merrily off in the highest of the trees. Bees worked industriously and hummed that almost electric sounding song, and wiggled to tell where the best flowers were. Not here. This place, _Silent Hill,_she remembered the name, was just that; Silent. Love felt another shiver go up her spine, causing her to pause a moment. Something began falling from the sky… snow? No, not cold enough. She had lived in Southern Germany for a while with her mother, and she knew the difference between snow and… ash? She caught some on her hand, and rubbed it between her fingers. It seemed to be too light to be ash, almost like flour. Still, she covered her mouth and nose with her t-shirt, to avoid any kind of lung disease, just in case.

Buildings, covered in peeling paint and cracked wood surrounded her on every side, like a pack of hungry wolves. Her pace quickened; _Where the fuck is everybody? There's got to be somebody here, some old, drunk Indian or a fire-cracker stand or something…?_The whole place creeped her out, and that's when she heard it: _… tap, tap, tap… TAP, tap, tap… TAP._

_She stopped dead in her tracks. The place was coming alive around her. She could hear it, industrial equipment, screeching sounds of metal against metal, sounds like wires being moved in the wind… and some high note, stuck in the air, a kind of wind that pushed through the old buildings and rotten trees and white ash and it sounded like… breath. Heavy breathing._

It stopped. All that remained was one machine, some grinding or stamping machine that had been left on and kept going, making a sickening, repetitive noise. Love, who was already a very light-skinned girl, turned ghost-white, and made a run for the nearest building. _You can't escape a noise, idiot,_ She thought, but at the same time thinking, _OH FUCK RUN RUN RUN-_

Why was she running? She wasn't sure, but there was something not safe about being outside. She jiggled the lock on the door, but it wouldn't budge. "Fuck this!" She said, kicking the door open. She went inside and slammed the door as hard as she could, and pushed the nearest piece of furniture in front of it. Why was she so scared? That breathing. She could still hear it, and that machine too… it had only grown louder as she entered the building, and then it stopped completely. Complete stillness and darkness submerged her, and she couldn't help but hear something at the door, and the other side of the window. _Scratch scratch scratch…_

Her breath came out in harsh bursts as she stood in a corner, trying to catch her breath. The air inside this place was fetid and damp, and it held an overtone of something else… something more disturbing, perhaps. She took a look around once she caught her breath, and realized she had run into someone's house. _Fuck, I hope there's no one here… Why? So I don't get blasted by a hillbilly with a shotgun._She walked around the room, looking for any signs of people in this place. Everything was very covered with a thick layer of dust, including an old newspaper that lay inconspicuously on the coffee table. It read as follows:

ANOTHER CHILD MISSING!

Janice K- A week after little Margaret and Thomas had gone missing from school 3 weeks ago, another young boy, named (_why is the name crossed out here? That's really weird…_) went missing from the local library. Witnesses say that a man with a –

Someone, maybe ages ago, had spilled coffee on the paper, smearing and blurring the rest of the words. _Damn._ But then that smell came back, that familiar smell, that alarming scent… She had only experience it once before, when she was in the National Guard. She had just joined up at the tender age of 17, and had just gotten out of Advanced Individual Training. _I loved my badge, _she thought with a nervous laugh, _I looked badass._ She walked into a different room, the kitchen, and looked around some more. It smelled slightly rotten here, like someone had left milk out too long, or hadn't cleaned their fridge out for a while…

There was something in the fridge.

It was no dissimilar to the scratching sound outside the window when she had entered the house. And that unnerving aroma wafted back into her face, like someone was breathing on her, right into her nose. The last time she smelled that… was when they found Private Jones, a week after the fact, with his head all over the ceiling and a 9 mm in his dead, bloated hands. Like old flowers that had been soaked too long. Love felt her hand slowly go into her pocket, placing her fingers gently around the gun she had brought with her, and began to withdraw it. She heard it again, that sound, grating in her ears. It sounded like a wet **slap, slap, **coming from inside of the fridge. Something dripped from under the fridge door, more so every time she heard another **slap**. Her hands were shaky, so much so she was afraid she would drop her gun as she pointed it in front of her, extending her other arm to open the fridge. She placed her hand on the cold, metal handle, and gulped in what could be her last breath, and tugged on the door—

… revealing nothing. She exhaled heavily and let out a nervous chuckle. _You silly thing, it was nothing! Still… what was that noise? _She looked inside the fridge, searching for water. She had nearly forgotten how thirsty she was with her heart all in a panic. She found none, but she had encountered something strange… it looked like a little medallion, but instead of being silver or gold, it was made of a smooth soap stone. There was a picture on the front of a teddy bear, and on the back there was a crudely carved 'M'. "Hmph," she murmured softly," Finders keepers."

**SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.**

She looked up; It was coming from the freezer. She closed the fridge and took a step back, extending her hand once more to open the freezer—

…and it fell out with a loud _SQUISH,_ making Love scream at the top of her lungs and take a step back. It smelled rotten and horrible, and it swished from side to side, spreading black sludge all over the checkered tile floor. It made a sound like a drowning child, but it horrified her all the same. She took a few more steps back and pointed her gun at it, just for safe measure. The thing extended its long, blistered arms towards her, and pulled itself forward with sickening, sharp nails. Love didn't hesitate.

**_BANG!_**

It slowed, but didn't stop.

**_BANG!_**

It let loose a nauseating shriek, then seemed to melt before her eyes. The smell of burnt hair and festering flesh filled every nook and cranny of the kitchen, so the smell of her vomit didn't really make it any worse. Next to the pile of sludge, though, something else fell out of the freezer. Love got up from her knees with her gun out front, hoping with every part of herself that it wasn't another one of those… things. She gave a gracious sigh of relief when she saw it was something harmless… and useful. A powerful, heavy flashlight lay there unassumingly, and next to it, a bottle of water. She picked them both up, and after downing half of the bottle of water, she pulled herself together and went through the door to her left, into the hallway of this haunted house.


End file.
